


Losing Streak

by hutchynstarsk



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24474667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hutchynstarsk/pseuds/hutchynstarsk
Summary: This is a longer version of The Con, that deals more with what's going on underneath Heyes' trick, and what they're both dealing with. Also ties into an episode.Beta: Thank-you to Dawn!!! :D
Kudos: 6





	Losing Streak

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted here:  
> https://aliassmithjones.livejournal.com/91154.html

**Losing Streak**  
  
by Allie  
  
  
Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes sat near a crackling fire in a clearing. Their two horses grazed nearby. Curry faced his friend with narrowed eyes, trying to read his face. Inwardly, he shrugged. Impossible.  
  
“Dealer takes two.” Curry licked his fingers and slid two top cards off the deck.  
  
Curry and Heyes regarded their new hands studiously. Curry wore his poker face. He turned over a five, and shifted it next to another five. “I’ll raise you ten cents.”  
  
Heyes sorted through his dwindling stack of money. He couldn’t have more than about five dollars left. “I’ll see your ten cents, and raise you fifty cents.”  
  
Under his breath, Curry made a ‘tsking sound. “Your loss…”  
  
“Put up or shut up.” Heyes’ expression was intense, but gleeful.  
  
Curry threw down the money. The pot now held $1.80.  
  
“Stand and de-liver,” crowed Heyes, putting down his three aces.  
  
Curry allowed himself a grin. Heyes’ smile disappeared, as Curry laid down three twos, and two fives.  
  
“Well of all the dang luck. Kid, are you getting better at bluffing?” Heyes grinned suddenly as Curry reached for the money. “Just a second, Kid.” He laid out his last two cards…two sevens.  
  
Curry felt his jaw go slack. Then he hardened it and glared at his friend. “You…cheated!”  
  
“Did not,” said Heyes agreeably. He reached for the money.  
  
“Wait a dang minute! We split the pot. It’s a tie; we split.”  
  
“I have the higher—”  
  
“We split! It’s in the rules—check Hoyle!”  
  
“It’s not, but I’ll check anyway.” He reached genially towards his saddlebag, then snapped his fingers. “Oh, drat. What do you know? I sold it when we were broke two towns ago. Remember? You wanted a drink…?”  
  
Curry grimaced. He stretched out, hands behind his head. “Guess we’ll have to wait till we can check someone else’s copy.”  
  
“Well.” Heyes sat down again. “Or we could flip for it?” He wore his big, trademark-Heyes grin. “What do you say?”  
  
Curry narrowed his eyes. “Whose coin?”  
  
“One of those. Any one. You can flip.”  
  
Curry thought on it a moment, then nodded. Better to settle these things at once, not let them hang over your head. He picked one of the larger coins, turned it over once, then flipped it and caught it on the back of his hand. “Call it.”  
  
“Heads.”  
  
Curry uncovered the coin. “Tails.” He grinned triumphantly.  
  
“Great!” Heyes returned the smile. “You win. We split it.” He reached for the pile of coins and began dividing it into two stacks.  
  
“Hey—wait a second! I thought we were flipping for all of it!”  
  
Heyes clicked his tongue. “No, Kid, to see whose method we’d follow—mine or yours.”  
  
“You mean yours or Hoyle’s,” said Curry. He kept an eye on the division. “That means…heads you’d win it all, tails you’d win half. So you couldn’t lose. No wonder you let me flip.” He scowled.  
  
“I did have the better hand. Don’t blame me that you wanted to change the rules as soon as you won the flip.” He finished dividing the pile and pocketed half. “There. Rest is yours.” He got up, grunting a little. He glanced at the Kid, a quick, cunning look. “Want to play Montana Red Dog?”  
  
“I’d beat you at Red Dog!”  
  
“Care to back that up with a little wager?”  
  
“No.” Curry frowned.  
  
“Tell you what. I’ll make you a wager you can’t lose,” said Heyes. He got to his feet, wearing an innocent expression. Entirely too innocent.  
  
“I wish you wouldn’t give me that look. It’s like there’s no one around to con so you’ve got to con me.” Curry crossed his arms, and nodded to the cards, still scattered around. “It’s your deal.”  
  
“Okay.” Heyes shrugged. “I’ll deal, if you don’t want to clean me out…” He emptied out his pockets. “…all of five dollars and fifty-eight cents.”  
  
Curry considered. “You’d bet it all? On what? A coin toss?”  
  
“No. Easier than that.” Heyes gave him an infectious, dimpled grin, and rested his hands on his gun belt. “A shootin’ contest!”  
  
Curry stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”  
  
“I can. See that knot on the tree over there?” He pointed.  
  
Curry looked at the tree, frankly incredulous. “That little bitty thing? You think you can hit that?”  
  
Heyes shrugged. “I’m willin’ t’ give it a try,” he said in a gravelly voice, one hand resting comfortably on his gun belt and holster.  
  
Curry looked at the little knot on the end of a small tree limb, at Heyes, and then back at the tree. “I’ll do it. Let me count out five fifty-eight.”  
  
Heyes put a hand on his arm. “Now wait a minute, Kid. Hardly seems fair—me betting everything, you betting just $5.58. I think you ought to bet everything too—especially since you’re better at shootin’.” He gave Curry a rueful grin.  
  
Curry nodded. “I guess that’s fair.” He emptied out his pockets, and counted the money, licking his fingers to separate the bills. “Ten eighty.” He looked up, meeting Heyes’ brown eyes.  
  
Heyes nodded. Curry set the money on a big flat rock and Heyes placed his there, too.  
  
“Feel kinda bad takin’ your money, Heyes.”  
  
“Well, you can pay for the next hotel room and meal, how’s that?” Heyes adjusted his gun belt.  
  
Curry thought about the offer seriously. It sounded like a sensible notion. He nodded. “Yep. And I’ll let you count down.”  
  
“On three.” Heyes adjusted his gun belt with one leather-gloved hand, and faced the tree with a serious expression, his smile falling away.  
  
Curry felt a smile growing on his face. Heyes…beat him at a shootin’ contest? He could be a little over-confident, but this was ridiculous! “Don’t feel right,” he said, shaking his head. But maybe it was time Heyes learned a lesson.  
  
“One,” said Heyes abruptly.  
  
Curry got ready, settled his stance, brought his hand towards his gun, and readied the steady, inward calm and awareness that he needed whenever he pulled his gun. He had to be totally in control, paying complete attention—even for a silly contest he couldn’t possibly lose.  
  
“Two.” Heyes’ hand hovered close to his gun.  
  
“Three!”  
  
Curry’s gun leapt into his hand and he fired off two rounds. Both skewered the tiny knothole on the little branch—perfect shots. The branch splintered and cracked, and the end fell off. Curry flipped his gun back into his holster, and smiled proudly at Heyes.  
  
Heyes, not looking at him, drew his gun and fired. One bullet. He hit the big knothole in the middle of the main trunk. It was as big as a fist, an easy target. He slid his gun away and smiled at Curry, raising his brows. “Surprised you didn’t hit that.”  
  
Curry gaped. “What—?” He gestured to the tree. “What did you go and shoot that for?”  
  
“The knot hole.” Heyes nodded with one jerk of his head. “Why? What were you aiming for?”  
  
“For the little thing!” He pointed. “What were you—? That shot’s no challenge!”  
  
“You didn’t hit it, did you?” Heyes crossed his arms and grinned.  
  
Heyes scoop up all the money from the rock. Curry gaped at him, pole axed. Did Heyes just…con him? Cheat him out of all his money? It wasn’t possible! Heyes was his _partner._  
  
Curry blinked at his dark-haired partner, who sauntered back towards the horses. Heyes stopped by his horse’s side, gave it a pat, and fiddled with her saddle.  
  
He really meant to keep it, didn’t he?  
  
“HEYES!” shouted Curry, as he got the full impact of Heyes’ little con. He ran after his partner.  
  
In one quick movement, Heyes swung into his saddle. He dug his heels in and the horse jumped forward.  
  
“Get back here, you cheat! I’ll flatten you!” Curry started at a run for his own horse, but Heyes had a head start. He galloped off, leaving Curry fuming.  
  
Kid jumped onto his horse and kneed the animal into a gallop. He’d take the shortcut up ahead. Heyes wasn’t running out on him, no sir. Veering his horse to the left and off the trail, he rode between the trees.  
  
#  
  
Heyes glanced back, and slowed his horse a bit. No need to tire her out; she’d have to head back the whole way. He slowed her to nearly a walk, glanced around, and patted her side.  
  
Up ahead, a brown horse burst from the bushes. Kid! His hat was low and he wore an intense expression.  
  
“Oh, heck…” Heyes whirled his horse to head back towards the camp, but he was too slow. Curry rode rapidly alongside him and caught his horse’s halter.  
  
Deeply reproachful blue eyes stared at Heyes. “The money.”  
  
“Now, Kid, it was a fair bet. You agreed to it!”  
  
“Get off the horse. Give me the money.”  
  
“Kid… I won fair and square. It’s not my fault you didn’t—”  
  
Before he got the rest of his sentence out, Curry lunged forward, caught hold of him, and pulled him out of the saddle. Heyes’ horse shied away with a whinny of distress.  
  
Heyes gave a yelp, half enraged, half surprised. He stumbled, and before he got his footing, Curry had swung down from the saddle and grabbed him by the arm. “Money. Now.”  
  
“Highwayman.”  
  
Curry’s expression was dark. “ _Me_ the highwayman? I’ll flatten you!”  
  
Heyes yanked his arm free and ducked away from him. “A bet’s a bet!” he shouted, and ran.  
  
Curry ran after him. “Heyes!”  
  
Unlike their rowdy owners, the horses had had enough of running around. They snorted, tossed their heads, and then bent to crop the meager grass.  
  
Heyes didn’t slow up. The landscape was scrubby and dry, with only a few trees.  
  
“A bet’s a bet, Kid! C’mon, you’ve got to see that. Look, it just means I’ll have to pay for everything. What’s the big deal?” Kid didn’t have to take it so rough! Heyes kept running, though.  
  
“The big deal is you’re not supposed to con _me,_ Heyes!”  
  
Curry caught up and grabbed him by the arm, cold fire in his blue eyes. “Heyes, I’m a patient man, but you cheated! Now I’m gonna flatten you!”  
  
Heyes glared at him. “Kid, don’t push me.” He yanked his arm free.  
  
“Heyes…!”  
  
They faced each other, something fierce and crackling in the air between them. “You want to do this?” Heyes asked quietly. “You really want to do this?” He stripped off his brown jacket.  
  
Curry’s mouth dropped open and he straightened. His hands dropped to his sides. “Why, Heyes—” He cleared his throat, and his voice returned to a normal level. “You never fight me. You almost never fight, period.”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Heyes frowned. Made him sound like a weakling.  
  
Or a loser.  
  
Curry looked at him now without a trace of anger. “You really mad about something, huh?” He frowned, tilting his head slightly, one hand resting near his gun belt. “Heyes, if I did something…”  
  
Heyes turned away from him. Seeing that worried look on Kid’s face made him feel downright guilty. He shouldn’t have taken this out on Kid. He took a deep breath and turned back to his friend wearing a big smile. “No—it’s nothing, Kid. Guess I got a little carried away. I guess we both did. Don’t worry about it. You can have your money back. But next time, make sure you know what you’re betting on. Not everyone’s as nice as me.”  
  
Curry grinned, but Heyes couldn’t manage anything more than a weak, fake smile in return.  
  
Curry’s smile died. “What is it, Heyes?” His expression was all concern again.  
  
“It doesn’t matter, Kid. Let’s get back to camp, huh?” Heyes jerked a thumb toward the path. Neither man made a move to leave.  
  
“Heyes…” Curry moved forward, impulsively, and put a hand on his arm. “Is it me? Something I did?”  
  
Heyes' smile was breaking, and his chest thumped with pain. “Nah, Kid. It’s nothing about you.”  
  
“Aw, Heyes, just tell me what’s eating at you. Keep the money—I don’t care. Just tell me.”  
  
Heyes looked at him. _I really messed things up, didn’t I?_ Slowly, he shook his head. “We weren’t gonna talk about… Danny… so let’s just let it go, huh?”  
  
“Danny.” The Kid blinked. Then his face hardened. “What’d he do? He’s dead now. He can’t hurt us anymore.”  
  
Heyes shrugged. “I guess I’ve just been letting something he said get to me, Kid. It’s not important.”  
  
Kid stared at him. Around them, it was nearly dusk. A bird twittered peacefully, and not far away, the horses cropped grass as if nothing were wrong.  
  
“What’d he say?” asked Kid in a wary voice.  
  
Heyes smiled painfully, and looked at the ground a moment. The ground was dry here, grassless. Heyes’ mouth twitched sideways, and he touched his thumb to his nose. “He said I know how to lose.”  
  
Heyes felt awful even just admitting the words. They had been eating at him for so long….  
  
Heyes looked up and met Curry’s gaze. “And he’s right. I’m real used to losing. We do an awful lot of losing, Kid, and we have for a long time.” He looked down, and scuffed a boot in the dirt. “Even being the best outlaws—we lost, because now we have bounties on our heads, and we don’t have any of the money left from our misspent youth."  
  
Part of Heyes’ mind registered that it would be dark soon; they ought to fetch the horses and head back. He shrugged. "Just… forget it, Kid. I’ve been letting him get to me, okay? I’m sick of losing. I don’t want to lose anymore. But that doesn’t make it your fault. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, or tried to con you.”  
  
They stood facing each other. Curry stared at him, looking confused. “Heyes, I don’t know what to say.”  
  
“You don’t have to say anything, Kid.” He turned and trudged back towards his horse, and rubbed her nose. His shoulders were slumped with defeat. Talking about it didn’t help, didn’t change it. He wished he hadn’t said anything.  
  
Curry followed him, and picked up his own horse’s reins. “If I could take back what he said, I would. But he’s dead now, and he didn’t know anything anyway.”  
  
His boots crunched on the dry grass as he caught up with Heyes. “You think he knows you better than I do? I look at you and I see a winner."  
  
Heyes glanced at him, and began walking back towards camp, leading his horse by the reins.  
  
Kid fell into step and poked a finger across at Heyes. "Who kept us alive all these years? Not just me with my fast draw, that’s for dang sure. Your brains, my gun. So if you’re letting some guy’s words get to you, what are we going to have to count on? My gun—and your fist fighting skills? It ain’t gonna work, Heyes. The point is, you can’t let somebody who’s dead get to you.”  
  
Heyes frowned. “Don’t he get to you, Kid?” He turned to look at his partner’s face sympathetically. “I mean, we’ve avoided talking about him…”  
  
Curry gave a slow nod. “Yeah. Because I didn’t listen to you. I went ahead and shot him. Figured it’s a sore spot—especially because I ain’t sorry.”  
  
“You ain’t—” Heyes stopped walking and gaped at him. “I thought you—”  
  
Curry sighed. “Heyes, what was I supposed to do? He killed a man. He robbed us. He challenged me in the street and wouldn’t let it go." Kid scratched his chin, looking weary. "He wouldn’t back down. He was gonna shoot me! Now what would you do? No—I take that back. You’da got out of it somehow. Well, I couldn’t. And he deserved it.” Jutting out his chin, Kid put one hand through his gun belt near his pistol, as though for comfort.  
  
Somewhere in the nearby trees, a bird sang sleepily, preparing for dark.  
  
Heyes said softly, “Well, Kid, don’t let it eat at ya. Like you said, you had to do what you had to do.” He kept his voice gentle. “I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”  
  
Curry grimaced. “That’s the thing, Heyes. It’s a sore subject for you. It ain’t for me. Maybe it oughta be, but it ain’t.” His blue eyes reflected pain, something like agony.  
  
“Kid, I’m sorry I brought it up. It is rough for you, and I didn’t mean to do that to ya.”  
  
Heyes wished he could take it all back, the con, the conversation, all of it—anything to get that look off Kid’s face. Heyes was supposed to look after Kid, not make things worse for him.  
  
“Heyes…” Curry sighed, took off his hat, and ran his hand through his hair, then fitted his hat on again. “That’s the thing, though. It ain’t. I don’t mind a bit that I shot a man. I killed somebody, Heyes, and—I just don’t care. I feel cold inside, and like—like nothing, when I think of him lying there in the street, dead." His eyes looked far-away, reflective and unhappy. He shrugged. "He’s dead, and I don’t feel nothing. Not satisfied, not sorry, just—cold.” He looked helplessly at his partner. “What’s that mean, Heyes?”  
  
Heyes put a hand on his arm, looked into his eyes. “Kid, that means you hated having to kill somebody. You knew you had to, but you didn’t like it. Now, that’s normal.” He rubbed his hand up and down on Kid’s arm. “I’d say that’s real normal.”  
  
“Yeah.” Curry twitched his mouth sideways into a half frown and nodded. “Yeah—I guess you’re right, Heyes. You usually are. Guess we oughta…head back.”  
  
“Yeah.” Heyes pulled himself into his saddle and turned his horse to follow the Kid’s down the path.  
  
“Heyes.”  
  
“Yeah, Kid?”  
  
“I sure am sick of beans. You think we should head into a town?”  
  
“Sure, Kid. Hey, let me give you your money back.” He dug into his pocket.  
  
“Nah, that’s okay. You can handle it for the both of us. You’re pretty good at that. Just don’t bet it all on the first poker game you see.” Curry grinned.  
  
Heyes rolled his eyes.  
  
  
<<<>>>  
  



End file.
